Running from demons
by Blak Kat13
Summary: When Jason died, Bruce was left with nothing but regrets. A second chance came and went in the form of the Red hood. But now they're given yet another chance; for Bruce to be a father, for Dick to be the brother, and for Tim to meet the boy he'd looked up to. Will they bring Jason home, or will he be taken away once again. Rated 'cause Jason's word choice requires nothing less.
1. Coming home

**This is my first fan fiction, tell me how I did. If you find any grammar or spelling errors feel free to tell me and I'll fix 'em. Constructive criticism is extremely welcome so please review.**

**i own nothing. I really, REALLY wish I could say i did but cannot. It saddens me deeply but I've come to accept it.**

His head was killing him, that was really all he could comprehend as he painstakingly pulled himself upright against the alley wall and waited for the world to still before going any further. Everything was too bright and too loud but dull and distant at the same time and nothing made any sense. And he was cold, so cold.

After a minute, he took a deep breath and began dragging himself to standing. He managed, but he went crashing back down as his legs gave out when his legs gave out almost immediately. Staring blankly at the grimy wall, he lay there where he'd fallen for a while, not exactly conscious but not yet totally lost to the world.

get up! His mind screamed at him. He had to get up! Get away from here before who ever had done this to him got back and finished the job. A hunted feeling came over him and the adrenalin rush of being in danger gave a scant scrap of life to his lead limbs, just enough to stand and take a step forward. Then another. And another. And one more. One foot in front of the other was really all he could manage, one hand still resting against the wall as he stumbled drunkenly out of the alley.

then there was his next problem: he was up, he was out, he could still be in danger... What now?

pay phone, his brain supplied helpfully. If he went left and kept walking, eventually he'd come to a pay phone. Then he could call for help.

but who was he supposed to call? No one would- his brain cut him off.

Bruce. He could call Bruce. Bruce always made everything better. He would help him. He could fix any thing.

and so he set off again, a single shard of the shattered shambles of his mind being thankful that going left meant not having to cross the alley and give up his support.

left, right, left, right. One, two, three, four. Just keep going. Almost there. Time seemed to be dragging through cement He'd stumbled several times already, the pouring rain that made it impossible to see only working against him. His foot caught on something, abruptly shifting his balance sideways and sending him crashing into the wall. A cry burst from his lips when the impact introduced him to yet another injury he hadn't known was there and jarred all the other ones he'd already discovered. But, after a moment of breathing shakily through the pain, he pushed himself up again -like every time before- a forged on.

where was Bruce? He was wearing his uniform (which he'd discovered around fall number three when his mind pulled enough pieces together to realize he was clutching his helpmate in a bruising grip) so that meant he should have a tracer on him and batman should have found him already if he'd been captured. But he wasn't here.

he's never here, a part of him screamed, filing him with a foreign rage and hatred. I'm nothing to him. But another, stronger part that didn't quite seem like it was himself at all -the one that had gotten him this far- reassured him that that wasn't the case. That he'd see that if he made it to the phone booth and called Bruce, that he'd see that he cared.

he listened to the second voice and banished the feelings to the very back of his mind, because why wouldn't Bruce care? He'd saved him from the hell of his childhood, taken him in, given him something more o fight for, and made him apart of his family. Even when not everyone was particularly please with that, Bruce had never kicked him out but told him every day that he was there to stay for as long as he felt like.

he reached the phone with only half of him realizing it and found that someone had left enough money for one call. Probably someone who'd run for shelter when the rain had stopped. The shards of his mind pulled together for him to numbly punch in the number. Listening to the ringing, he slid down the electrical pole that the pay phone was built next to until he was resting on the ground. He drew one of his pistoles from its holsters and felt a lot more safer him it simply in his hand. Pinning the handset against his ear with his shoulder, he checked the clip on impulse. It was empty. That didn't really matter though, the presence of the gun it's self was enough to reassure him and most likely fend of anyone who got bold tonight -they didn't have to know it was empty- and Bruce would be here soon anyway.

this inspection had taken only a second and the thinking a second more on an almost instinctual level, but it still seemed that the ringing had already gone one for one eternity and was nearing a second.

"Wayne manor," the familiar British voice answered finally. "To whom am I speaking?"

"hey Alfred," he said by ways of introduction. "Can I talk to Bruce?"

what ever was said next happened when his consciousness dipped down so he missed it, but Bruce's voice woke him up.

"what do you want, Jason?"

~'~,~'~,~'~,~'~

in his extensive tenure as batman, Bruce Wayne could count on his hands the number of times he'd been shocked absolutely speechless. The number had just gone up with the phone call and looking at Alfred's polite but expectant face was only making it worse.

when the phone had rang, Bruce had been all too ready to let the old man answer it. There was a reason he wasn't out on patrol right now, a reason named Red Hood's crazy scheme that included the batman almost getting blown up. But when Alfred had uttered Jason's name, rage had filled him and he'd all but grabbed the phone from his old friend's hand.

"what do you want, Jason." He'd barked, his usual control over his emotions slipping and allowing some to leak into his voice. He didn't care though and was about to continue in a rage when Jason interrupted.

"look, bruce," that stopped him cold. The choice of words wasn't uncommon, he'd heard them from his wayward son thousands of times. Before and after his death. But there was something off about them now. He didn't have time to think on it long before Jason threw him for a whole new loop.

"I'm sorry okay?" Whatever was said after fell on deaf ears and Bruce found himself gaping like a fish and quickly snapped his jaw closed. Jason just apologized, before his death it was a common occurrence -if he believed he had something to apologize for, that is- but now a days, Jason would never. Not even to save his own life. As batman, he was used to expecting the completely unexpected but undeniably ingenious from the Red Hood. But this was a whole different level. This had to be a trap, a plan to draw him out.

"you can ground me later." And now Bruce wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. Was this what some of his colleges felt like when he half explained a mission?

the question was meant to be internal, but it seemed his brain was only taking messages and it slipped out his lips instead. "what? Ground you?" The answer he received invited a sense of foreboding to settle in his gut.

"yeah, you're obviously pissed. So that means I screwed up again, but I honestly can't remember doing anything wrong but you're gonna ground me anyway. But can you come and pick me up first? I'm cold, I'm exhausted, I have no idea what's going on, and I'm pretty sure I got myself shot up with one hell of a drug. and i still have that freaking term paper to write and it's due in... Like two days."

this wasn't happening. Bruce could only stand there, eyes wide, jaw locked, with the phone straining in his grip. Nostalgia suddenly poured over him and skewed his sense of reality until he almost believed that he was talking with his son. The Jason from before he'd died. The Jason that he'd loved and been loved in return by.

"Bruce?" Jason asked over the line, sounding more than a bit apprehensive, at the same time Alfred called "master Bruce?" And then the spell broke and he had no doubts about what he was going to do next.

"I'll be right there," he said curtly. Then he hung up. He didn't bother asking where the boy was, the computer in the batcave could give him that. He didn't demand what the red hood was planning, because Jason wouldn't pull something like this even with a gun at his head. And he had no idea what was going on. Bruce simply hung up and strode quickly toward his study and the grandfather clock.

"master Bruce," Alfred called again, easily keeping a brisk step exactly two steps behind. "May I ask what the rush is?"

"something's wrong with Jason," the billionaire replied, distress evident. "He sounded off. He was apologizing and taking about being grounded and term papers. He..." The man suddenly stopped and turned to face the old butler with eyes filled with a thousand different emotions. "He sounded exactly like he used to."

to his credit, Alfred's eyes only widened minutely. "And where are you headed at the moment?" Good only Alfred, keeping calm and on track when even the batman could not.

"he asked me to pick him up," Bruce said, resuming his journey. In record time he was dressed in his bat suit and headed towards his car.

"I've already located the payphone the call originated from and sent the coordinates to the batmoblie." Alfred reported.

the batman nodded. "Thank you, Alfred. And call dick. Tell him to get here and that I'll explain when I know."

the butler barely got in his "of course, sir" before the batmoblie was speeding off.

the old man took a deep breath and released it slowly before nodding to himself and heading up stairs to place the call.

~'~,~'~,~'~,~'~

when the phone rang, dick was just walking into his hotels room, pizza in hand. "H'lo?" He answered, putting it on speaker phone with more difficultly than he would like to admit. Juggling a large pizza box, a stack of case files, and a computer bag while trying to answer a cell phone was no easy feat.

"master Richard," Alfred responded.

"oh hey Alfred! You don't have to call and check up on us," dick teased, looking up when his younger brother walked into the living room; hair still wet from swimming at the beach. "Tim's fine." He flashed the young hacker a winning smile when the boy scowled playfully at him.

"just barely," Tim said, coming up to the counter where the cell phone rested. "between dick's driving and the take out food and the hotel beds. But it's been fun." Tim had been spending the last two weeks on a road trip with dick after his school was momentarily shut down from the last joker attack had rendered half the building a biological hazard. While the hazmat teams took care if that, all of the students were on break.

"yes while I'm glad to hear your time has been enjoyable," the butler spoke as proper as he always had. "I regret to inform you that master Bruce requests both your presence in Gotham as soon as possible."

that put both of them suddenly on alert, this one on one bonding had been Bruce's idea after all. He wouldn't interrupt unless something was wrong. "What happened?"

on the other end, Alfred gave a suffering sigh. "We're not sure. Master Jason called and master Bruce rushed out soon after instructing me to phone you."

the Wayne brothers' gazes met over the screen, both were thinking the same thing. Of course it was Jason. Ever since he'd come back, the red hood had made it his mission to make everything as hellish as possible for the bats. Sometimes, they almost wished he'd stayed dead. Almost. Jason was still their brother and Bruce's son, regardless of what he was doing right now, dick wasn't sure Bruce would be able to handle burying the same son twice. Once was almost too much; for all of them.

as if reading their minds, even across the vast distance, Alfred spoke again. "Master Bruce seemed quite distressed when he left."

and that did it, if Bruce was even slightly worried, the rest of the world should be absolutely terrified. "We're on our way."

"very good. See you soon." The call dropped dead.

"I wonder what happened," Tim asked softly, still staring at the darkened screen.

"I don't know, Tim," dick admitted in the same tone. After quickly packing up and checking out of their room, they were climbing into dick's car. Tim didn't even bother to change out of his swim trunks. The pizza was eaten on the way.

~'~,~'~,~'~,~'~

he was pushing the batmoblie as fast as it would go but it still didn't seem fast enough. This is why the batman hated emotions. They compromised everything and made you act recklessly. They were the reason Jason had died and the reason Bruce had almost perished with him.

the call had come from the slums completely across the city and in the worst part of town, right near crime alley. He was still taking too long to get there. When the computer alerted him he was close to his destination, the only thing he saw was the rain blurred figure of someone decidedly much smaller than Jason slumped against a telephone poll. And he almost kept driving, but then he saw the payphone two feet away. And then he saw the unforgettable red helmet sitting next to him, visible even through the pouring rain.

Bruce couldn't get out of the car fast enough and when the boy looked up he was taken back years in the past. Images of Jason's incredulous expression when he'd been caught red handed in the alley with the tire iron. Jason's determined gaze when he was robin. Jason glaring up at him after a fight. And finally, Jason's peaceful expression as he lay in the coffin.

the last one stayed with him longer, because it was the same face he was looking at. There was some difference, in fact it looked slightly pained, but was so different than the rage marred face he'd grown used to seeing. This face was years younger and only had that defiantly angry spark in his eye that had always been there, though it was dulled to almost none existent.

"sure took your time," Jason said suddenly, ripping Bruce from his thoughts. "But that just might be me,it did seen to take me an hour to just sit down." Bruce didn't respond. Jason sighed. "I guess i should get up then huh?" Not waiting for a reply, one he probably wouldn't get, Jason sowed the pistol in his holster and began trying to haul himself upright to standing. Using the poll behind him, the boy made it almost half way before the world tilted dangerously and his knees gave out and sent him crashing back down to the pavement once again.

"well screw that idea," Jason mumbled. He turned his head, without lifting it -he didn't have the strength, to stare forlornly at the super car parked about ten feet away. Ten feet that might as well have been ten miles through eighteen inches of tar.

meanwhile the batman could only look on with his heart splitting open old wounds on every beat. Then his body was moving off its own accord. Completely numb, he gently slid his arms under the boy's knees and shoulders and lifted him up in his arms. Once he was standing again, Bruce was swept back up in another memory. The last time he'd done this, he'd just finished digging Jason out of the rubble and his son was dead. His breathing hitched and his eyes began to sting as he stared at the boy in his arms.

it was only Jason shifting and letting out a gasping breath that brought the man back to the present and reminded him that while Jason's face was still blood and bruised like it had been that day, he was alive.

carefully Bruce walked to the car and lowered the boy down in the back seat, laying him so that he occupied the entire bench. During the ride back to the cave, Bruce split his time, unevenly, alternately glaring at the road and glancing back at his passenger, Who had slipped into blissful unconsciousness almost as soon as he'd hit the seat and hasn't moved since.

Alfred was waiting for him when he pulled into the cave. Wordlessly, Bruce slipped out of the drivers seat and went around for Jason, lifting him again like before.

"oh my," was all the butler could say as he followed the bat to the intermarry.

laying Jason on the table, the two men set about removing his shirt to look for wounds they knew were there. Once they had the top off, Bruce's stomach clenched. Last week, the red hood had made a move on the last part of the drug market still under the black mask. The move hadn't been subtle either, in any regard. Everyone had known that something was going down, that had been the plan: get everyone in one place and take them all out at once. Unfortunately, batman had heard about it and had shown up as well. And the joker had followed batman, or at least decided that was the most likely place for the bat to be and had paid a visit. Long story short, the warehouse had ended up exploding at the result had been Bruce being benched with injuries; several broken ribs, stab wounds from flying shrapnel, burns, a concussion, and such that had Alfred insisting he stay home a few nights and the rest of the family backing him up. There had been a report that one of the hostages, a little girl about twelve, the joker had brought with him when he 'crashed the party' had said that someone had shielded her from the blast. She'd said that he'd worn a leather jacket and a red helmet. Naturally no one had really believed her and chalked it up to stress and trauma talking, but now he believed it.

Jason's entire torso was covered in burns and lacerations and bruises. They looked like they'd been treated but someone had ripped that bandages off. There was a gash between his hairline and left temple than ran about an inch and a half down his face. Again it appeared as though it had once been stitched but no longer was. It took them almost forty minutes to treat everything; and they found that his wrist needed to be braced as well as evidence a a sever concussion. The blood work to tell wether or not Jason's guess about being drugged was right or not wouldn't come back for a few more hours, by then it would already be tomorrow.

when they were done, they took the boy up to his room and laid him in his own bed. Then with a final look, because neither had quite convinced themselves this was really happening and not just some sick dream, they left him be and headed down to the main living room to wait for dick and Tim.

because heaven knows they wouldn't get any sleep that night.


	2. Facing

**oh my gosh. The success you guys are giving this story is incredible. Thank you so much too those two who reviewed and all the favs and follows, you guys made my day yesterday!**

**all right. Same to for this chapter as the last, please read and review and tell me if you find any errors (I'm typing this on my iPhone since my laptop lost its own system -how that's even possible, I have no idea. Apples great and I love them but really?- and bottom line is its not working. So now I'm stuck dealing with autocorrect and this stupid keyboard. **

**Also this chapter will be much sorter, the last one was ridiculously long because I just wanted to see if anyone would like it. Obviously you guys did. **

**Alright on to the story! Thanks again and I hope you all enjoy! **

light streamed in through the open curtains and straight into his eyes. Sometimes, Jason wondered if the beds had been specifically placed so that when the window was opened whoever occupying it would be chased out by the sun. He didnt doubt it, rich people would do something that sneaky.

damn it was bright.

but not as bright as it should be. it was more a dull, early morning bright than the nine o'clock glare that usually greeted him when he usually got up on the weekends.

"Alfred," the boy groaned, pulling the covers over his head and rolling away from the cursed light. he glowered at the clock on the bed side table, waiting for the numbers to blur into focus. "It's only 5 in the morning."

when a British voice didn't immediately order him out of bed regardless with what was always definitely a chuckle -no matter how much the brit denied it-,Jason glanced at the bedroom door. There was no one there. Which was odd because Jason wasn't known to be one you could just wake up and trust to get out of bed on his own after you left, more often than not he would have to be physically dragged out of bed if you wanted him up early. Alfred was always waiting at his door in the mornings.

Jason glanced at the clock again. It still read 5 o'clock.

and then he did a double take. Yes it was five, but unless the device was lying -which wasn't possible, unless the Internet it was hooked up to was off as well- it wasn't the morning. And the sunlight invading his space was evening light.

"what?!" Jason exclaimed, reaching for the foul thing but only ending up falling off the bed and landing on his face. So now not only was the world ending, his balance had decided to take the day off as well? Perfect. Just perfect.

the world ending might have been a little of an exaggeration, but the fact remained that he never slept this late. Ever. Aside from not being allowed, Jason wasn't even sure he could. Noon was usually his latest.

he tried to remember what had happened last night that might explain why he was so tired. He was rewarded for his troubles with a sudden, stabbing headache that dull almost immediately to just a soft throbbing that was easily ignored as soon as he stopped trying to think.

whatever the case, it was definitely time to get up. Swinging his legs over, Jason pushed himself to standing and waited for the black spots to disappear. Once he was sure he wasn't going to fall over, he started for the door and down the hallway in the direction the kitchen.

he reached the kitchen without meeting anyone and found out why a moment later voices reached his ears. He followed them, creeping along silently on instinct. They were low so that he couldn't make out words or distinguish whose voice it was but it seemed as if every one had gathered in the living room. And bruce was certainly there, Jason four recognize the low rumble of his surrogate father's voice in his sleep, threw a door and under the influence of sedatives, and it held no hostility which meant there was no danger. Still though, it was seriously odd -odder than sleeping in this much- that no one was around.

More than a bit curious, Jason walked towards the living room door with the full intent on barging right in. If it was an important Wayne enterprise meeting, Bruce would be meeting in his study. If it was a secret dark knight meeting, they would be down in the batcave. And Jason couldn't remember being told about any guests he needed to tiptoe around. Besides, this was his house damnit, far be it for him to go were he please. If they didn't want him over hearing, that was their problem.

everyone stopped talking when he walked into the room. And Jason stopped as well. Sitting not four feet from each other, were Bruce and dick. Bruce and dick not at each other's throats. Jason by no means missed the tense atmosphere in the room but it wasn't anything like the suffocating miasma that usually accompanied the pair. This felt almost civil, which was beyond weird.

scratch what he'd said earlier. The world was ending and the demons in hell desperately needed mittens and scarves.

"what are you doing here, dick?" Jason asked loudly after several seconds of just shocked blinking. He stressed the last word so it was clear enough that he wasn't using the bastard's name, but not enough so that anyone could call him on it. (That was an expensive word and a good portion of his allowance already went into Alfred's swear jar.) The guy wasn't a big fan of Jason, it was common knowledge, and Jason wasn't one to just roll over nice and hope that Grayson would start to like him. No, Jason fought back; and coming from the streets of Gotham, he'd be the first to admit he fought dirty.

all he got in reply was four owl eyed faces staring at him as if he had one eye, one horn, was purple and had just declared he was going to spend his time flying around and eating people (1). Even Alfred looked like he had no idea what to do. Bruce just looked like he'd seen a ghost, dick looked like he'd just been caught red handed doing something dirty, and the kid just gapped.

wait. What?

"and who the hell is that?" Jason demanded, pointing to the boy his age occupying the couch and wearing what looked like his swim suit. Not that Jason was in much of a position to say anything, but at least he had sweats on. besides, he had just gotten out of bed. The kid looked like he hasn't slept in ages. "I wasn't aware that Grayson was recruiting brats. I thought that was bat's corner of the market." His snark was ignored in favor of continuing to stare at him. After a moment, Jason started to feel uncomfortable. Finally his least favorite of the current audience decided to break the silence.

"Jason?" Dick breathed softly, as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

Jason frowned. "Duh. I didn't get hit by that psycho magic freak's spell again did I?" He looked around for a mirror but settled for peering at his reflection in picture frame. Nope, looking back was still his face; white stock and all.

"I don't think so," Bruce said, clinging to the very edge of calm by the tips of his fingers.

"you don't think so?" Jason repeated, incredulously. "How can you not know? You rarely let me out of your sight."

instead of answering, the man asked his own question. "What's the last thing you remember?" It pissed him off really, but Jason knew that the only way to get answers was to play Bruce's game, cause the guy was physically incapable of just coming out and saying it.

"uh," Jason thought hard. What was the last thing he remembered? He couldn't recall, and that scared him more than he'd admit. There were several possible reasons he would have no memory of whatever had happened. None of them were good. And the headache was back now, pounding and clawing at the inside of his skull with a fury he wasn't prepared for. The more he tried to remember, the worse the pain grew.

"I -I don't know," he stammered out finally. Bruce frowned, but his face softened slightly.

"alright then, can you remember what year it is?"

that was easy. "2008."

Bruce's face was closed off and he only nodded but he still managed to give Jason the feeing that he'd just failed a very important test. Alfred managed to remain as stoic as ever, standing at Bruce's back in case he was needed. But he'd always compared Dick's face to a billboard, though it wasn't making him feel any better. In fact, it only confirmed the feeling in glaring neon lights. Jason kept his eyes stubbornly away from the stranger on the couch.

Jason started looking around for something that would answer his question, since the other human beings didn't seem inclined to. His eyes landed on a smart phone resting on the foot stool; before anyone knew what he was doing, he'd scooped up the phone and was lighting up the screen.

"march!" Jason couldn't believe what he was reading. "What the hell happened to December?" He glanced up at his mentor, avoiding looking at dick as much as he could, and saw only the face of someone that was about to deliver some really bad news and wasn't sure how the recipient would react. That wasn't helping to rid the thing growing in his gut, something that felt a little too much like fear.

he looked back to the screen, to see if maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him again, only to freeze. The phone slipped from his numb fingers, landing safely back in its place. Probably much to the relief of its owner. "Guys... This isn't funny. Tell me you're just screwing around with me."

Bruce's face and pressed lips were clear. Even if the billionaire and his first son could stop fighting long enough to plan something like this, which was hardly possible last time he checked but it was better than the other option, this wasn't a trick. It was march. In 2013. Five years from what it was supposed to be. Five yeas had passed and he couldn't remember any of it. Five years had passed and he was still fifteen years old, when he should be twenty.

his mind was flooded with questions, one for every dollar in Bruce's bank account. What was going on? Why was he still fifteen? What had happened? What had he missed? Why weren't Bruce and dick fighting any more? Did they get over whatever shit was between them? Why were they all looking at him like he was about to freak out? Why did Bruce look like he was at a funeral, looking down into the casket at someone he loved? what was with the red hot rage that weighed heavily in the back of his mind?

why did Jason suddenly feel like he didn't obelong there? Like he wasn't wanted?

instead he asked, "so does this mean I don't have a term paper due tomorrow?"

"no, you finished that years ago."

a small, nervous laugh slipped out before Jason could stop it. "Years ago huh," he repeated softly, not speaking to anyone. Then he suddenly turned back the way he came and announced "then I'm getting something to eat."

no one stopped him as he made a beeline to the kitchen. No one followed him either. So when he reached it, Jason just sat down at the counter. Thanks to his starving origins, Jason had more than a small obsession with food. He could always eat, and he ate a lot. When he'd first come to the manor, it had taken his almost three months to adjust to the idea that the food would still be available for the next meal and he didn't have eat until he felt like he would puke. Though he'd never gotten much father than that, but now Jason couldn't even think about food.

that unwanted, out of place feeling was still there; and the absolute confusion wasn't helping the matter. By nature, Jason was an adaptive person. He rolled easily with the punches life threw at him and it had kept him alive up until this point, but this was getting uncomfortably close to accumulating beyond the point he could cope with.

the losing his memory and apparent not aging or de-aging he could handle. He and batman dealt with magic and such pretty often. Jason himself had been on the receiving end of it more times than he'd like to admit, and every time bats or someone figured something out and took care of the problem. So he wasn't as worried about that as he probably should have been. Not to say he wasn't kind of close to panicking, cause he definitely was, it just wasn't his main concern.

that honor went to the pair sitting in the next room, right next to each other, and not even glaring at each other when they should be yelling and at each others throats. No one had ever told him what had happened exactly, but Jason had witnessed the aftermath of his predecessor leaving. Dick hated Bruce, and Jason by extension. Seeing them together, acting like the father and son they were, made his stomach clench. Sure that sounded selfish, but Jason had never been particularly secure with his place at the manor when it came to his older brother. He'd always had a inkling of suspicion that dick might come waltzing in one day, demand his suit back and that Jason be thrown back out onto the streets. And the man had never exactly given the boy any reason to doubt that feeling. But in the living room, the guy looked like he actually gave a damn. Which is what sent Jason almost over the edge. Dick had actually said once that he didn't belong being robin, wether it was because it was his old identity or he wanted Jason gone from the manor all together was never explained; and Jason had never been able to get enough of a read of him to figure it out himself.

but something had changed. Something major, but he still felt like dick had never come to like him during those years he couldn't remember. Call it instinct or whatever, Jason just knew that even before whatever mess he'd gotten himself into, their relationship hasn't changed much. So why was dick suddenly deciding to care now? What exactly had happened?

the more Jason thought about it and tried to answer the questions for himself, the more that uncomfortable feeling grew. And, just to add to his problem, the headache had come back full force. Then suddenly he became aware of the aura wafting from the living room: of someone watching a train crash and it clouded the air and burned Jason's airways and lungs like acid.

he had to get out of there, if only for a little bit. Just to clear his head.

gritting his teeth, he marched back to the source of his current problem. "I need cash," Jason stated bluntly.

the stupid look that passed over dick's face made the situation a little better. "What? Why?"

"i'm going out,"Jason looked straight at Bruce, daring him to say otherwise. And he wanted to, it was painfully obvious. Whatever had happened, the billionaire didn't want Jason out of his sight, but he also knew that the boy needed to get away. it had happened before when something happened or manor life overwhelmed him, being somewhere where he felt wholly that he belonged always helped when Jason just wanted to hide from everyone and their expectations to fit into a mold that he never could. And the manor, sadly, had never made it onto the depressingly short list of places he did. Bruce also knew that if he didn't let him go now, he'd wake up one day and Jason will have disappeared altogether. That had also happened before and the bat had spent an entire 72 hours searching for him.

didn't mean he liked it. The kid seemed to pick up on this as well. After glancing around at Bruce, dick, and Alfred, who had remained as a silent observer this entire time, he stood, still looking slightly unsure. "I'll go with you."

Japan frowned at the boy for a moment. Then he conceded. "fine, lets go." If having a babysitter meant getting out of here, that was fine.

besides, Jason could always ditch him.

~'~,~'~,~'~,~'~

**(1): anyone get the reference? Super kudos to whoever does!**


	3. Another new start

**I'm trying to cut down on the lengths of my chapters so this doesn't get to be insanely long. Tell me how I did!**

**I still own nothing. **

when they had arrived at the manor hours after getting Alfred's call, Tim just wanted to go to bed. The eighteen hour drive from Miami, not to mention the sudden departure, had left his energy totally zapped. A cup of coffee and an hour and a half of being able to just sit and relax in something other than a car had helped a lot. So when they were sure they weren't going to fall asleep, Bruce explained why he'd dragged them all the way back.

once the story was done, wrapping up with the daunting fact the Bruce had no idea what had happened, Tim had no idea what to think. Jason, Jason Todd -the criminal vigilante red hood, who had forcefully taken over gotham's drug market- had been turned into a teenager. A teenager that had no memory of dying, let alone coming back from the grave and hating his family.

they spent the next while asking questions and Bruce answering them to the best of his ability and spitballing possible scenarios of what could have happened. All of them had been so wrapped up in the talk that they didn't hear the subject of their discussion moving through the house. And the definitely weren't prepared for him to appear unannounced.

even though he knew what to expect, Jason suddenly striding into the room like he owned the place was nothing short of painfully surreal. And Tim was positive that if it was painful for him, it must be agony for those that had actually known him. The rogue -was he still a considered that?- teen broke the spell by loudly insulting their older brother and confirming that he had no recollection of the boy he hated.

when Bruce started questioning him, Tim could almost see Jason's uncertainty rising like a scale, telling him that something was wrong and that he should get out as soon as possible. Jason was a good actor, good a keeping a calm facade when he was freaking out, but the unconscious step back gave him away. So, since they thought he was in full retreat, no one was prepared to stop him when the former red hood -was it former thought? Bruce said he'd been wearing his suit when he'd been found- suddenly moved forward and grabbed Tim's phone. He wasn't quite sure what they expected Jason's reaction be once he figured out he couldn't remember the last five years -at least, they weren't sure just how far back the memory loss went, yet anyways- but it certainly hadn't been what they got.

Tim had never really thought Jason to be one who really cared about school work, so when the boy's first question was if he had a report due or not instead of ...say, what the heck happened? He wasn't quite sure what to do next. He'd hone over all the lines he could say if Jason started panicking, has a plan for letters A through G for how to handle him if he went into one of the Red Hood's infamous rages. But nonchalant acceptance? That hadn't even been considered an option. If Tim was in that position, he would be a majorly distressed. in the least.

and then the realization that Jason was freaking out but just putting up a strong front, such a convincing one, hit him like a ton a steel bricks. If it hadn't been that one falter before he'd grabbed the phone, Tim would have just chalked it up to Jason just being stronger, being Jason because nothing except the Joker and Bruce could ever seem to effect him. How much practice had the guy had that he could put up such an impenetrable mask? And was it something he'd learned on the streets? or an instinct he'd picked up the last few years showing through? Or maybe - bit of both?

now Tim had changed out if his swimsuit and was waiting for Jason at the front door. Idly he wondered if Jason's drawers were still full of cloths he could wear or if Alfred had to dig out some.

"Tim," Bruce's voice broke through his musings. The boy looked up to see him striding into the entrance hall, Dick at his back. "Take this," he ordered, pressing a bat standard issue taser. It was thin like a marker and shaped similarity as well; pressing on the back like you would a pen fired little barbs that packed enough electricity to drop even Bain.

"but-" tim began to protest. Bruce looked sympathetically at him.

"just in case."

any further argument was made impossible when Jason and Alfred rounded the corner. Forcing Tim to shove the defensive weapon in his pocket before Jason could see.

"so do I get my iPod back?" Jason was asking, glancing at Bruce briefly before focusing solely on the butler, who assumedly had been the one to confiscate the device originally. " 'Cause I think my grounding sentence ended like five yeas ago. Not even you guys would ground someone for that long." He was dressed in slightly ripped jeans, a light shirt, a black and hooded varsity jacket, and boots that answered his earlier almost-question. Dick wouldn't have worn anything line that, let alone kept it this long, which meant that Jason's room really was still completely intact.

"I believe, master Jason, that you were told you were grounded until further notice," Alfred replied mildly, though there was a slight pained note to it. One that was easily missable.

Tim didn't think for a second that Jason missed it, but he pretended not to very well. "Oh c'mon! Isn't there a sympathy card I can play here? I'm the amnesiac."

"only if played correctly at the right time. And you're listening device was returned to you three weeks after its confiscation."

"great," Jason didn't sound like he thought it was great at all. "So I'm the only one who m owe where it is and I can't remember a thing?"

"correct."

the older teen gave a dramatized sigh. "Well damn." Then he shrugged and turned to address Tim. "Whatever I can look for it later. You ready to go, kid?"

the hacker resisted the urge to point out that he had been the one waiting and that they were the same age so Jason couldn't call him a 'kid'. Instead he he just nodded. "Ready when you are, but the cab won't be here for another ten or fifteen minutes."

" 's all right, if we meet it at the gate it'll cut off five minutes. Lets go." Jason pulled open the door threw a pointed glare back at Dick and a look akin to trying to place a face at Bruce before heading out the door.

ten minutes later, they were still waiting; an accident on one of the few road leading to the manor had slowed traffic down to a snail's pace.

the entire time Tim kept fingering the taser in his pocket and glancing at Jason out of the corner of his eye. He wondered if it was too late to back out of this. Seriously? What had possessed him to agree to this? Or even volunteer? If something happened, if Jason suddenly remembered anything about the last five years, Tim would be screwed. The red hood had beat him within an inch of his life before and to think now would be any different would be crazy. Jason had size, weight, strength, and skill on him even as a teenager. Could he just change his mind and go back to the manor? It wasn't too late yet. Tim snuck a discreet look at the source of his current dilemma, lounging causally on the top of the stone wall with his hands behind his head, and realized that yes, yes it was too late. Jason needed this. If he stayed in the manor any longer, he'd crack. So Tim had to suck it up and pray to God that nothing went wrong. He could do this because it was what his brother needed, and their neither problem with Jason as the red hood was centered around the fact that he'd never gotten what he needed as a teenager. Now was might be their chance to fix that. Do it right this time if Jason's situation could be fixed.

the boy jumped when his companion suddenly seemed to grow tired if the silence and addresses him again. "So how much exactly aren't we friends?"

Tim gapped up at him for a moment as Jason rolled over to regard him expectantly. "W-what makes you think we aren't friends?" Did he remember something?

"well," he jumped down and leaned back against the wall, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I know when I'm being managed, and if we were even acquaintances on good terms you would have volunteered to come along on this little field trip with out looking like you just signed up for a death march. You keep looking at me as if you expect me to attack you. And," he motioned with his pocketed hand to Tim's own. "You're packing. Or at least the bat version of packing."

"oh," Tim said intelligently. What else could he say? Jason was right on all counts and apparently he hadn't been as subtle as he'd thought. "Yeah, we didn't get off to a great start." He ran a hand over the back of his neck and head like he always did when embarrassed -especially when it was about him getting caught- and let his gaze fall to Jason's feet.

"I'll say. So how bad did I beat you up?" Was his next question. Tim's eyes snapped back up at the that. "I move, you tense if not flinch. So how bad was it?"

Tim almost didn't know how to answer that. It wasn't like he could tell the guy that he'd tried to kill him multiple times in the past. A past he couldn't remember. If he didn't believe him, Jason would probably add Tim to the same list he had their older brother on. If he did believe him, that could be even worse. And if it sparked a memory? Or even a shadow of one? Tim didn't want to think of that.

"kind bad," he said finally.

Jason studied him with a frown. "Sorry," he said suddenly, lacking all the awkwardness that Tim's tone held. "I'm not really surprised, I tend to punch first ask questions later. I'm not a dick, so really. Sorry."

words stuck in his throat and all Tim could do was mod like a idiot. Jason laughed at him then closed the space between them and offered his hand. Apparently his brain was only taking messages and Tim only stared at the hand, half expecting it to curl up into a fist and 'punch the stupid look off his face'.

"since we got off to a bad start and I can't remember it anyway, lets call this our first meeting." He explained with an almost cocky grin. "I'm Jason Todd, and I swear -contrary to popular social belief- you will not receive an acid burn from touching me."

Tim shook. "Tim drake." The cab pulled around the corner and up to the gate.

"great. Was wondering when I got to know you're name," with that Jason climbed into the cab and closed the door. Leaving Tim standing awkwardly on the curb until the driver rolled down the window and asked if he was coming or staying. Tim ducked his head, muttered an embarrassed sorry and hurried around to the other side.

inside the car, Jason was doubled over laughing at him again.

**Alright there we go. Third chapter, please review. Tell me what you thought, and how my writing style is? It kinda seems to me like I'm a little choppy but tell me what ya think. Oh and next chapter Jason and Tim are hitting the town, if you have an idea of where they should go, what they should do, anything that should happen along the way include it in your review and I might add it in or something like it. I have a few ideas but need a little more, so the sooner you guys hell me out, the sooner I can get the next chapter out! **


	4. Drawn pasts

**I got a question in one one the reviews and I realized that, hey, I haven't told you people when this is all happening. Well, I haven't really thought about that... But I guess this would definitely after 'Under the Red Hood' and shortly after Batman throws Red Hood in Arkham (which you'll find out later) and all in all just a really bad point in their previous relationship. Hope that helps, 'cause I'm not really sure myself. **

**And yes, the capitalization errors are a problem with my auto correct. I'm typing this on my iPhone and Autoshift on this thing is a real pain but ill try to be better at it. Not sure when I'm getting my computer back, there's all sorts of things going wrong with it and I'm almost positive the universe is completely against me ever getting it fixed.**

**chapter four here it goes... "Nothing do I own."**

**read and review **

Jason hated taxis. With a passion. They always reeked, like that new car smell was rotting, no matter how classy they were supposed to be. And he couldn't help but feel like the walls were moving in, that they were going to crush him like a vacuum sealer. And that bothered him. A lot. Jason had never been a fan of small, enclosed spaces but this was ridiculous. There were even freaking windows.

The thing about Gotham's taxi service was that if they had these luxury cabs set aside for when one of Gotham's high society decided to call. And since 'Wayne Manor' was all the direction one needed to give when call such a service, they always knew to send their best. Not that Bruce ever really used cabs, Alfred usually drive him where ever if the guy didn't feel like driving himself.

but the entire point if this field trip was to get away from everything, so a non-Alfred mode of transportation was required. Enter the taxi. Which Jason still hated. The driver had spent the first ten minutes apologizing over and over again for the delay in his arrival, going on about how awful the traffic had been because of the accident, and finally what an honor it was to be driving for them as if his passengers really gave a damn.

Tim might've, the kid was hard to get a read on. He was respectful, shy, and quiet. Everything Jason certainly wasn't, everything people always seemed to expect him to magically become. It was sickeningly obvious that Tim had been raised in the world of manners, fine dinning, and five-thousand dollar suits; that he knew when to hold his tongue, which fork to use, and had probably meshed better with their dual worlds entirely better than Jason ever had. The night times world included; the capes liked kids who would 'ooo' and 'awe' at them, not the ones that mouth off and questioned how effective it was to simply put on a pair of glasses and comb back your hair and call it a secret identity. In short, they liked kids the exact opposite of the second robin, kids like Grayson and Tim.

"why?" The younger asked suddenly. And Jason gave him a confused look.

"you're gonna have to explain, Timmy, I'm not telepathic."

he looked slightly embarrassed at that, a sort of look that implied he got that a lot. After checking the divider to make sure the driver couldn't hear them, he spoke. "Well most people with amnesia are usually asking all these questions. You haven't. I was just wondering why?"

Jason raised an eyebrow at him; then he shrugged. "I don't know. I'm kinda at my limit, I guess, as far as potentially life altering revelations." He chose to not mention the headache that spiked painfully every times his thoughts wondered anywhere in that general direction. Tim seemed to accept his answer.

"though there is one thing," he continued after a beat. "What the hell is up with Bruce and Grayson? I mean what I miss? They should be at each other's throats."

"uh, yeah, they're... better now," Tim said hesitantly, like there was something he didn't want to reveal. That wasn't helping Jason's apprehension on the subject.

"noticed," Jason growled with a little more intensity than he meant. "I just want to know why."

"why does it matter?" Tim exclaimed with a touch of desperation. Now it was Jason's turn to be hesitant, he frowned. The kid obviously wasn't going to tell him anything without a good reason. The realization made his stomach tighten. Was he just acting on Bruce's orders and didn't want to disobey? Or had something happened that no one was willing to tell him about?

but this wasn't really something that could wait any longer as far as Jason was concerned, so he a for fully and painfully choked down his pride. "Dick basically said, several times, that there was 'no way in hell he would even consider coming back as long as the criminal trash was there'. And, well, he's back..." He really just wanted a heads up if he was about to be kicked out of the first real home he'd ever had... Or if he already had.

for a moment, Tim could only stare at Jason as what he was asking became clear. He felt sick really, and a rare fury rose towards his oldest brother. Dick had said before that he had been awful to Jason when he had been robin, and that it was one of his biggest regrets. He was always says that he would never forgive himself for letting his problems with Bruce ruin everything between them. It was the reason Dick had gone out of his way to make Tim feel welcome when he'd first come to the Manor. But Tim had never really realized how bad the older had been.

and it had obviously had an effect on Jason, a big one, if he thought that he would be kicked out and tossed aside on a whim. Alfred had said once, before Jason had come back, that 'he had unfortunately lacked any of the confidence he boasted when it came to his place, and stability of that place, in the family and at Batman's side'.

and then Tim realized that Jason was still looking at him with a sort of guarded but expectant expression that reminded him of a framed man waiting for his sentence. He could have said so much right then, could yell at him for everything Jason had done to cause his family pain. But he'd didn't, because that would get them no where and it wasn't right.

so instead he locked gazes with his returned brother and spoke with a level voice. "No, you always have a place at the Manor."

the effect those simple words had on the other boy was amazing, but unnoticeable unless you were really looking for it. Tim was though, so he didn't miss the way some of the tension eased from Jason's frame and a weight seemed to be lifted. Even his eyes changed and Tim wondered if thing would have been different if someone had told him that as soon as he'd come back. Or if he'd been told that more before he'd died, by someone other than Bruce and Alfred.

maybe. Now was the perfect time to try. To right everything that was wrong. Even if Jason didn't stay fifteen, what they did now might carry over. What they did now could either bring Jason back into the family or cement everything the Red Hood thought about them. Just as long as nothing happened to screw it all up.

the rest of the ride was pretty uneventful and light, Tim caught Jason up to speed on anything that he might need to know for everyday life; like who the mayor was and that Gordon was still the commissioner and other simple things like that. The topic of anything even remotely related to their hero work was left mutually undisturbed, Jason didn't seem to be interested and Tim wasn't willing to ruin this just yet.

they were right in the middle of debating over a remake movie and wether the casting was a disgrace or not, after looking up the pictures on Tim's smart phone of course since Jason had no idea who anyone was, when they got stuck in the same traffic that had initially kept their driver.

"ya know what," Jason said suddenly, leaning forward and tapping on the glass divider to get the attention of the man in front. "Just put the fare on the tab, we're getting out here." With that the teen opened the door and stepped out into the snail paced mess of cars. Leaving Tim to hurry to catch up after checking to make sure that yes they did indeed have a tab. How did Jason know this but not him anyway?

"a little heads up next time?" Tim requested as he fell into step next to Jason, who raised an amused eyebrow at him.

"why? Shouldn't you be used to it? Considering who you live with."

"I know to expect it from him."

the older teen flashes a Cheshire grin. "And now you know to expect it from me."

Tim sighed. Yes, this was definitely Bruce's kid. By blood or not.

"so where are we going exactly?" Tim asked after a pause.

"not completely sure," was the answer, accompanied with a devil may care shrug. "Figured I'd pick a street walk down it and see where I end up. It's worked before."

Tim had almost stopped short at that. Really he should have expected something like that, while yes the Red Hood was very possibly the most cunning of Batman's extensive collect of rogues, Jason Todd tended to just go with the flow. Unless his life or his mission was at stake, he wouldn't give much thought to it; not to say the boy wasn't ready if something did happen, or that he couldn't come up with a brilliant plan on the fly.

for a while they did just walk, turning here, taking a short cut there. Tim pointed out places that had changed and Jason just listened. They did get something to eat, at one of the chili dog venders and Tim had to say: it wasn't totally uneatable and toxic as Alfred has lead him to believe.

now they were reaching the edge of safe territory. Any further, and they'll have crossed over into crime ally, which, out of uniform, didn't seem at all appealing in any way to Tim. He was just about to say so when Jason suddenly stopped and he noticed the hair of his neck prick up.

"what do we have here?" Came a voice from behind.

"a couple of little boys wondered too far from home?" Another responded. More gang members crawled out of the darkness like cockroaches and surrounded them.

"w-we don't want any trouble," Tim stuttered out, mentally trying to think of a way out.

"oh we know bitch, but you see the problem is that even if you don't... We do." The man held up a gun and pointed it at their heads. "You got any valuables?"

from the corner of his eye, Tim saw Jason tense and he prayed to God that the boy wouldn't do something that would get them killed. He shouldn't have even bothered. To ask Jason to back down from a chance to bash some thugs was like Dick not tackling him in a hug every time they saw each other. Which was frankly -while totally possible- very, extremely, catastrophically unlikely.

but it seemed to be a day for catastrophes.

"hey Tim," Jason drawled causally, not acknowledging the wall of angry muscle around them beyond simply being aware of them as a threat. "Does Bruce make you do all that insane endurance training?"

"yeah," Tim answered slowly. How did that related to their current situation? And how was it helped them now? They were surrounded incase he hadn't noticed. Tim drake couldn't be seen just taking out an entire goon squad.

"how good at it are you?" Speaking of the goons, they didn't seem to know what to do with their prey being unafraid. In their confusion, they didn't try to interrupt the conversation.

"good enough." Tim still didn't know where he was going with this.

instead of elaborating like Tim wished he would, Jason turned back to the gangsters and regarded the apparent leader. His gaze lingered a bit longer on his feet. "Nice shoes," he commented in a tone that was impossible to tell if he was genuine or not.

Tim almost frowned, taking in the battered pair of Osiris shoes then glancing at Jason's own boot clad feet. The skater shoes weren't his style and they wouldn't be great if they ever had to run anywhere. Or walk at all fast for that matter.

wait... Tim couldn't help but groan as he out the pieces together. Jason wanted them to make a break for it, with a gun pointed at them while surrounded on all sides by a wall of meat and muscle. He took back what he'd thought earlier, about Jason being able to come up with good plans on the fly.

the gang still didn't seem to know what to make of them and Jason used this to his advantage. One moment he was standing next to Tim, taking in the circle, and the next he was all motion. The first that went down, naturally, was the gun wielding leader. Twisting his arm until it popped out of its socket, forcing the weapon from his hand and a hard punch to the solar plexus. The five other surrounding lackeys followed suit immediately, legs being swept out from under them and heads bounced off the concrete, or KOed with a solid blow to the temple or chest. By the time the fifth body hit the ground the others were starting to react, and one dove for the gun that lay between them and Jason. Jason was nearer thought, and quicker, and with no hesitation, no second thought what so ever, he scoped the pistol into his hand and turned it on them.

Tim froze faster then those who were actually under threat. All he could see was the Red Hood and he braced himself for the inevitable gun retort and the sound of splattering blood and the thud of a body. Jason looked every bit the part of the Red Hood, despite missing a few year in age, and the Red Hood didn't spare criminals. He wasn't capable of mercy.

They were all fools for thinking any thing would have changed. Tim felt like he was going to be sick again.

then Jason was moving again, darting forward and pistols whipping the nearest man across his face so hard Tim swore he heard something crack. Then another received a bone breaking kick to the ribs and two more were down. But still breathing. With no gaping holes in their flesh.

Tim just stared as Jason took out the rest. Trying to compute Jason obvious lack of the usual bat aversion to all things firearms but also the lack of dead bodies when there could have well been quite a few. This was Jason, the Red Hood, wielding a gun against the criminals he'd sworn to whip out and... Not using lethal force. It didn't make any sense. But maybe it meant that there was hope.

"well," Jason sighed, dragging the younger form his thoughts. He turned to the stunned boy. "Now what do you want to do?"

for a moment Tim just stared. He opened his mouth to speak, found he had no words to say, and closed it once again. As the silence stretches on, Jason face took on this confused scowl, it was almost slightly defensive as if he expected to be accused of something.

"what?"

Tim wanted to say that it was nothing. Or comment on how awesome that was just now. Or demand that Jason show him how to do some of that. Or suggest they call an ambulance for some of them. Or just change the subject entirely. But his body seemed to have other plans and his mouth was moving without Tim really knowing what was about to come out.

"you didn't use the gun." Was what he said. And he wanted to smack himself.

the defensive look vanished, replaced with even more honest confusion. "Was I supposed to?" He chuckled darkly, face suddenly contorting to match. "I think was you're supposed to say is 'you used a gun'."

"you didn't though," Tim argued. "Using a gun means you pulled the trigger. You just used it as something else to hit them with. B's done that before."

Jason nodded in acceptance, removing the guns clip and dropping it next to the unconscious body at his feet. "Guess we should call this in huh? Some of these guys'll need a doctor."

"yeah..."

They used the pay phone half a block away to call dispatch before high tailing it out of there before any responders could show up. Even now, twenty minutes later and three miles away, Jason was still coming down from his adrenalin high and Tim was still going over what had happened.

Jason hadn't used the gun to kill anyone, which was good, but he didn't have a problem wielding it to the fullest extent. And then there was the bone breaking, which was still echoing in Tim's head. Both were obviously skills the Red Hood used and that Jason still relied on. Which begged the question, what else was there? How much was Jason still the same?

Tim would have to talk to Bruce about it. That had to be taken care of is they wanted to bring Jason home again; or if they wanted to keep him there.

and now they were walking again, still in crime alley but not far from the boarder. Tim was following Jason and Jason seemed to be headed somewhere he didn't even know about. He walked with a purpose as if he knew where he was going, but wasn't paying attention at all. Tim didn't say anything until they were I front of an abandoned and run down apartment building, he stopped but Jason seemed to be drawn to the structure.

"Jason," Tim called and the teen stopped and looked at him.

"yeah?"

the hacker glanced at building and back at his former rogue of a brother. "Where are we?"

Jason looked confused, following Tim's gaze, he studied the building as well. The confusion didn't fade and soon Jason lifted his hand to his head, as if subconsciously pressing against a headache. Then, in a very un-Jason like manner, he dismissed the mysterious dilemma entirely.

"no clue. Anyway, let's go back. I'm starving and my feet are killing me. Ya think Alfred made anything for dinner?"

"yeah, it's late enough," Tim was still looking at the building: noting its location because he had a feeling that it might come in handy later.

"hurry up Tim-o! Or your finding your own way home."

"coming!" It didn't escape Tim's notice as he ran to catch up that Jason had recurred to the manor as home, and he gave a little smiled. Glancing back finally at the apartment building, that smile faded slightly. Obviously that place had something to do with Jason's past.

the only question is what past? His past from before the explosion that ripped him away? Or the past couldn't remember?

Tim had a feeling it was the latter.

**Sorry this took so long to get out. Hope you enjoyed it, I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. Was it too short? I'm trying to cut back a little but it seemed just a little too little to me. Tell me what ya think! And thanks for reading. **


	5. Nightmarish

I was thinking the other day that maybe I should clear up a few things since if i don't people might start to get kind of confused. So you should probably be aware that, while what I said in the last note is true, this story doesn't really fit into any of the established time lines. Instead, I'm taking what bits from everything and changing some things and completely ignoring others. Not to mention adding in a couple of my own, which is what makes this a fanfiction. So yeah, just a heads up, hope that made sense.

If you have any questions or comments leave them in the reviews and I'll try to answer.

Thanks again for all the support I'm really excited that this is too as well as it is. Never saw that coming!

Hope you enjoy!

when the two boys finally went back to the manor neither mentioned being jumped and if Bruce knew about it, he didn't say anything. Instead they let Alfred fret over them and scold them for begin out so long before making them dinner.

Dick comes to sit with them while they eat and strikes up a conversation with Tim that Jason can just barely follow. The teen doesn't try to include himself, with Grayson involved that never worked well for him in the past, instead he just sits back and tries to glean what he can. Soon, more so than either would admit later, they seem to forget about him. And Jason doesn't make any move to rectify that, the feeling of not belonging that had faded during his 'little field trip' with Tim had returned with a vengeance as soon as the eldest Wayne boy sat down.

the conversation doesn't revolve around anything interesting and after twenty minutes Jason is decidedly sick of listening to them. It wasn't the actually element of the conversation that chased away any appetite he might have had and finally drove him from his chair, it was the obvious connection between them. The way Dick had assumed the role of older brother to Tim where he'd have rather gouged out his own eyes when Jason was in that position. Jason wasn't jealous per say, not really. Jealousy was a useless emotion that Jason had seen ruin too many lives on the streets. So no, what he felt as he stalked up the stairs was annoyance and an anger that surprised him with its intensity.

and that was another thing. Jason would be the first to admit he was no stranger to rage and anger, hell that was what had kept him alive sometimes. And that apparently hadn't changed in the time he couldn't remember.

and that brought him to a whole other can of worms Jason had no intention of opening. So instead he tried not to slam his bedroom door when he walked into his room, ripped off his shirt and headed straight for the bathroom, fully intent on taking a shower. It was what he always did when he was letting his emotions get the better of him, showers were a luxury you didn't get on the streets so they always reminded him of all the good things in life. Which in turn served to cool his red hot anger so he could look at whatever had happened objectively. Because of this temper tantrums and explosions were far and few between. It was his way of coping with an anger no one had ever taught him to control. But he didn't always have access to a shower or the time to take one at every given moment did he? So there were times when he did explode.

those were the times that goodie two shoes Grayson heard always seemed to hear about. Those were the times the other capes only seemed capable of remembering. Those were the times that had forged his reputation in the Justice League, as the angry, delinquent robin with the furious temper and a right hook to match. Did they remember all the times he kept his temper in check? No. Because that's the way things worked when people were determined to hate your very presence.

yeah, he really needed a shower. Preferably before he punched a home through a wall, his nonexistent anger management skills definitely hadn't gotten any better. If anything, the were worse than before.

which didn't exactly surprise him.

when he walked into the bathroom, Jason didn't even glance at himself as he passed the mirror. He already knew what he'd see: his body covered in scars from his time on the streets, as both Robin and before. And unlike Bruce and Dick, he didn't catalog all his injuries. Scars had always been a part of his life, there were too many to keep track of. And let's face it, trying to would be seriously depressing

the hot water did exactly what it was supposed to. How long he stayed in there, washing away anger and grime that came with living in Gotham, he wasn't sure. When he emerged, there was a pair of his favorite kind of sleep wear waiting on his bed: simple flannel pants, he never slept with a shirt on, that looked like they'd just been bought.

with a strangely rueful smile, Jason dressed and collapsed in bed with his hair still wet and only jut under the covers. It was slightly unnerving how tried he was. Jason, as a bat, could function just fine after pulling three consecutive all-nighters, so why was he still so exhausted even with all the sleep hours he'd logged? What had happened to him?

the soft throbbing that always accompanied thought like that had him pushing the question aside. And with is head finally somewhat quiet, Jason was asleep in minutes.

Tim watched with a frown as Jason suddenly stood and strode quickly out of the room. A glance at the half full plate of food only served to deepen it.

Dick sighed almost mournfully. "I'm not doing a very good job at this am I?" Tim didn't respond and his older brother sighed again and Bruce walked in.

"so how was he?"

"great," Tim answered after a moment, finally turning back from the hallway said boy had disappeared down.

"does he remember anything?"

"I don't think so," the hacker thought about the way Jason had seems drawn to the building. "But the memories are still definitely there. A couple of times he would get this look like he recognized something but couldn't place it. But then he would look kinda pained, like he had a headache, and just forget about it."

"you mean he didn't ask about it?" Bruce asked, looking like he didn't quite believe it.

Tim shook is head. "Not once. He didn't really ask any questions. It was almost like he didn't want to know or he just didn't care." The sound of a shower starting reached their ears.

it was Bruce's turn to frown but Dick just sat back, unworried. "He's probably still just reeling. He start asking about everything soon. The question is, what are we gonna tell him when he does? That he's a homicidal vigilantly back from the dead and intent on making our lives hell? That he lurks around at night with a pair of pistoles, that he shots first and asks questions later?"

neither answered. Of course they couldn't tell him just like that, but it would come up eventually and it would be better if Jason heard if from them first instead of being blindsided by someone else or stumbling upon it on his own. That would undoubtably ruin any chance they had of fixing anything with the rogue ex-Robin.

"you said 'he didn't really', what questions did he ask?" Tim flinched, of course Bruce would be the one to pick up on that.

"does it really matter?" The boy asked, glancing at his brother despite himself. Bruce was frowning again.

"it could help us figure out what he remembers."

Tim bite his lips as he remembered the taxi ride to downtown. The anger he'd felt then was rising back up and he snuck another heated peek at Dick.

"well, pretty much he asked if he'd been kicked out."

everything was silent after that was out, enough so that they could hear the shower still going.

"what?" Dick asked, he sounded star angles and horrified. "What would make him think something like that?"

that made Tim's blood boil, now he understood why Jason hadn't come back to them. Why he'd thought that Bruce didn't care about him when he'd heard the joker was still alive and well. "You did."

"I never-" Dick started to protest but abrupt cut off and snapped his jaw closed.

"you remember now?" His brother nodded but that wasn't enough for Bruce.

"what did you do?" There was accusation in his voice.

Dick drew in a shaky breathe and refused to look his mentor in the eye when he answered. "Well he said that you would give anything to have me back. I got made an told Jason that you would have to get ride of him because there was no way I was coming back as long as he was here in my place..."

"and now you're back and he doesn't know what changed." Tim finished lowly.

Bruce was glaring. "You said that? Knowing that it was one of his greatest insecurities?"

Dick was shame faced.

"no wonder he reacted so badly to me," Tim said, rising from his chair. "if you were the example. Anyway, this is our chance to fix that right? Even if this isn't permanent or we have to change him back, it might carry over. Agreed?" He fix both of the older men with a steely glare. It wasn't needed though, they'd been discussing the same thug while the boys were gone. So Bruce and Dick nodded easily.

"good. Now following Jason around Gotham is exhausting," he still wasn't going to mention the failed mugging. At least not yet. "I'm going to bed. Night."

their responses followed him down the hall and up the stair. When he reached his room, Tim just stood inside the doorway and listened to the sound of water running that meant Jason was still in the shower.

yeah, they had to get better at this.

it didn't surprise Jason that he couldn't remember the last time he'd dreamed, but it bothered him slightly that he felt like this wasn't the first time he'd been here. Here being just simply a dark void that was only possible in dreams, so he wasn't that worried. He could feel the ground under his feet, but he couldn't see it. All around him was an endless, light eating dark, but when he looked down at himself it was like he was standing in a spotlight. Not really a cause to worry, it was obviously a dream, but more that slightly unnerving. Not to mention the sense of déjà vu.

he also wasn't surprised when the eerie silence didn't last.

Jason felt the pain of the blow before it hit him and the force of it hit him like a train. He went crashing down, landing in pool of what sounded like ware but smelt and taste like copper. Another unseen blow connected with his head then again on the back swing. Something hit him in the ribs with shattering strength and threw him to the side. This time when he splashed down, Jason had time to push himself up out of the water.

and then he made the mistake of looking down at his hand. It was covered in red. Crimson red. It was on his hands, up his arms, across his chest, and staining his pants. It was everywhere and Jason found himself panicking. The red started running, bleeding together to cover what it hadn't before and seemed to solidify like a film, then it started changing. On his hands it darkened to black so that it looked like he was wearing gloves and over his heart it started burning like acid. But before he could look down to see what it was, another blow knocked his on his back and a second made him see stars. The pain was definitely more than it should has been, and everything hurt. Breathing was agony and moving was out of the question, but he needed to move. To get up. To get out of here.

when the pain died down enough for that to become possible, Jason didn't waste anytime in sitting up, ignoring the way his ribs scrapped together, only for something to tighten around his throat and cut off his air ways. Stuck half way between sitting and laying was not a position hat his body was up for holding very long and he went crashing back down. The pressure was gone and he tried it again.

the result was the same and this time his hand flew up to his throat. What he found made his eyes widen: a clasp. His pain and confusion muddled mind cleared a bit and Jason rolled so that he eventually ended up on his hands and knees, gasping.

the burning hadn't faded and at first Jason wasn't sure what he was seeing. Compared to the black that surrounded them and the dark red backdrop, the yellow circle seemed to almost glow. There was something in the center, a kind of symbol. No, a letter... 'R'.

everything clicked with a painful snap and it wasn't the mystery force that caused him to jolt and scramble back in a panic filled attempt to get away from it.

he was in his Robin suit and the red liquid was blood. His blood. Jason wanted to be sick.

another blow connected with his head and it took a moment for him to realize why he couldn't hear his own ragged gasps.

someone was laughing. A haunting, manic laugh that turned his blood to ice. More blows rained down, one after another and the laughing peaked with each connection.

then the voices started.

"Wow, that looked like it really hurt."

a figure formed out of the darkness, just on the edge of Jason's vision, it swung a metal bar around as I testing the weight. It had no face, no color, but it did have a distinct shape that somehow outlined it from the rest of the never ending dark that Jason knew he should recognize but couldn't. The words didn't come from it either, they were disembodied and echoed and seemed to come from a different direction every time. They drove into Jason mind like stakes. The figure came to stand over him, studied him for a moment, then raised the bar over it's head. It brought came down with a force more agonizing than it should have been.

"now wait, that looked like it hurt a lot more."

a foot landed in his side.

"so help me clear this up. What hurts more? A?" The shadow slammed its weapon into Jason's temple. "Or B? Forehand? Or backhand?" It caught him again on the back swing.

Jason's whole body screamed in pain but begged him move and get away. Things were coming in bits and pieces now and his brain wasn't working right.

"looks like you've got a collapsed lung, lamp chop."

a hand grabbed his hair.

"the first boy blunder had some manners."

his face was smashed into the ground.

"I should teach you a lesson so you can better follow in his footsteps."

a pause.

"nah. I'm just gonna keep beating you with this crowbar."

a foot pressed down on his back and held him in place when the bar came down on his side.

it continued like this for what seemed like hours, but Jason's logical side, the part that was almost completely drowned out by fog and pain, knew that it probably was only a few minutes. Seconds maybe. It knew that this was just a dream.

but at the same time it was way too real for it to just be a dream.

just when Jason had begun to stop feeling the blows, his entire body just one big pain so that he couldn't feel any difference, the figure dropped the crowbar in the pool of blood under him, larger now than it had been, and began walking away.

"well it's been fun."

"tell the big man I said..."

"Hello."

Jason barely registered the faint sound of beeping and something big and red swam in his vision, constantly changing. Then it froze.

and everything erupted into flames.

Jason jolted up in bed with a strangled gasp. He scrambled out and ran to he bathroom just in time to empty he contents of his stomach. His head was pounding with the intensity that made him want to put a bullet his own head just to make it stop.

what the hell was that? Jason thought viciously. He tried to remember the dream, nightmare really, but it was slipping away; almost beat down and pushed back by the pounding in his head. The only thing that stayed with him, as nothing but a lingering echo, was that laugh and those last word 'tell the big man is said hello'. But he tried to drag everything back to the surface but the more he tried the more his stomach rebelled and the migraine intensified. Just like before.

and just like before, Jason found himself finally pushing the thoughts and questions and desperate need to know what the hell had happened to him away. If only to make it stop.

he waited a couple more minutes for the pain to become manageable and the black dots dancing across his vision before attempting to get up. He puked again for his troubles.

dragging himself back to bed, Jason pulled a pillow over his head, trying to just block out everything. Even his own thoughts.

the laughing still echoed in his head as he finally succumb to pain and exhaustion.

what the hel...?

so there it is. Hopes you liked it! I apologize for any mistakes, this isn't proof read and I don't have a beta. Anyone interested?


	6. Can't for the life

**Two quick questions i NEED answered, or at least your opinion on:**

**1) I can't decide if Tim should be on the Young Justice team for this, they won't be appearing in this story, as of right now, or if they do it won't be anything major. This is mainly just planning ahead for the sequel I might write (if u guys like this one) and I just wasn't sure what to do. **

**2) and second is what should Jason hero name be? For obvious reasons he can't keep calling himself Red Hood and Robin isn't even an option, not that he would probably take it even if it was. I have some ideas-ish but I'm not good at coming up with this kinda thing. **

**so if that made any sense that great, please answer in the review; if not and you want to answer anyway, just ask your questions in the reviews or message me. Any answers will be appreciated, unless there just deliberately stupid. **

**as always read and review; anything you guys say pretty much makes my day!**

Tim looked up from his breakfast when Jason collapsed in the chair across from him and offered a cheery hello. The dark glare he received in return wasn't surprising. Fifteen years old Jason had been at the manor for a little over a week and Tim was still marveling at how easy the transition had been. Everyone had been expecting a rough adjustment that still wouldn't be totally completed by the time Jason was returned to his actual age. Everyone had been absolutely been wrong.

it had taken all of three days for everyone to fall into a sort of routine. For Jason it was all he knew, Alfred and Bruce seemed to remember exactly what to do, and Tim was good at adapting. Surprisingly, it was Dick that was taking the longest to adjust; Tim thought that it might have something to with that his entire relationship with Jason had consisted completely of hate and anger. Now that was gone and neither really knew what to do.

other than that the dynamics had pretty much smoothed out. Another surprise though was that Jason seemed to sort if gravitate towards Tim. Bruce had said a round day five that he'd never seen Jason get along with anyone as well as he did with Tim. Because of this, Tim was quick to learn that Jason was not a morning person by any stretch of imagination.

by the time Alfred came in with a plate of food, Jason had stopped glaring at him and dropped his head on he table. It was the same every morning: Tim would wake up at 6:45, shower, get dress, and be down for breakfast by 7:30 on a slow day. Jason would be down around 7:45 -Tim thought this probably had more to with not being able to sleep any more than actually wanting to get up- looking pale as a sheet and sick. By day three everyone had stopped worrying about the paleness, or mostly at least, and Tim had learned to ignore his attitude in the mornings. Jason was down right vicious in the morning but by 8:15-ish, after he'd eaten and gained back some color, Jason was just about back to himself.

today was no exception.

when Bruce had trudging into the dinning room about Ndebele minutes later, probably coming from the batcave rather than bed, he shot Jason a worried look. The boy didn't even spare him a glance as he began picking through the food on his plate with slowly growing enthusiasm.

"oh Tim," Bruce said, turning to him once he was statistics Jason was starting to eat with his usual vigor. "Gotham Academy called, repairs should be done by the end of the week so classes will resume on Monday."

Tim groaned. "Way to ruin my morning."

He was given an unconvincing look of sympathy.

"we knew it would happen at some point." With that, Bruce continued to past the table and onto the hallway leading towards his room to get ready for the day. Tim watched with a wave of satisfaction when Bruce paused to ruffle Jason's hair as he passed, noting the way the irritable teen seemed to almost lean subconsciously into the brief contact. It soon morphed into slight indignation when Bruce snatched a breakfast pastry from his plate, totally ignoring the platters full of them.

Dick showed up around ten and by then Jason was back to his normal self and up in his room getting dressed. The relationship between the two was an interesting one, Tim had noticed it after the initial awkwardness had begun to fade. They were slightly antagonistic towards each other but not particularly hateful. Jason still wasn't quite sold on Dick sudden but not really change of heart and Dick was showing an uncharacteristic hesitance around the younger teen, neither of which were really helping. But Dick was trying and Jason hadn't decked him yet so Tim, Bruce, and Alfred were counting it as a win and leaving it at that. Pick your battles and all that.

another thing Tim had noticed was that Jason was almost fully immune, to everything. Dick's charm that usually had everyone eating out of his hand didn't seem to have any effect on Jason, Bruce's terrifying batman glare was rendered null and void, even Alfred's disapproving look that could make even the Batman submit had minimal effect. Meaning that Jason pretty much did his own thing and, if the reactions of the manor's original occupants were anything to go off of, this was nothing new. Jason's mouth was actually quite amusing, after Tim had gotten over the shock at least.

on Jason's second official night Alfred had introduced, or reintroduced, the swear jar during dinner. Jason had cursed through a mouthful of food and dropped his head to the table and groaned when the butler had demanded a dollar for the expression. And when the concept was explained to the 'golden boys' -they'd all flinched when Jason had brought up the familiar phrase and Tim wasn't sure how he felt about being grouped under it, confided in the history behind it- Tim was secretly impressed. Specifically at the lot of banned words, obviously dug up from somewhere, it cover half a dozen languages and two types of sign.

"jeez," Dick had mumbled, flipping through the pages when it was passed to him. "Did you learn the languages just of the swear words?"

"pretty much," was Jason's deadpan reply. "Could use them a couple of times before anyone caught on."

Dick had given an appreciative whistle. That was really the friendliest conversation they'd had since.

what was most surprising about the entire situation was that Jason seemed to prefer Tim's company over everyone else. It probably shouldn't have been as surprising as it was but it was so sarcastically different from what was normal. Ever since that day out by the gate, waiting for a cab Tim had gotten used to having someone there who actively sought him out and was fun to be around.

he just dreaded the day when Jason would be changed back. Would he remember any of this? Would he care?

Tim wasn't sure how, or if, his family would be able to cope if things just went back to how they used to be. If Jason became the enemy again.

Jason jolted up in bed, hands flying to his mouth to keep back a scream. Then he was stumbling out of bed and emptying his stomach in the bathroom. It was the same every night: he's wake up beyond terrified, pain still lingering and that laugh echoing in his head. In the moment it took for him to realize that he was still in his room and awake, what the nightmare had been about would slip from his mind and the migraine with crash into him. Then he'd run to the bathroom and puke his guys out.

"welcome to hell," he muttered venomously, leaning over the sink, rinsing out his mouth and slashing water on his face. Then, not for the first time, he studied his face in the mirror. It was pale like you would expect, contrasting with his black hair. The little tuff of white hair on his forehead still confused him, it was familiar but... not. Had he had to before? He couldn't remember, and trying only made his stomach rebel again so he push it for his mind like everything else he didn't know.

and not for the first time, he found himself avoiding looking anywhere else. Something just told him he'd didn't want to look, to see what ever he was hiding from, and he didn't argue.

after he was sure his stomach was settled, Jason would go back to bed and sleep restlessly for another couple of hours. Then he'd wake up, feeling like he was about to puke again, wait for that to pass, before following the smell of food down stairs. Which strangle didn't bother him, which in turn meant that he wasn't sick so he'd didn't feel it necessary to tell anyone about what've went through each night. He still had his pride and asking for help and never been his forte, another thing that hadn't changed.

one thing that had though was his tendency to throw on a shirt before leaving his room.

when he sat down with Tim at the table, receiving a disgustingly cheerful good morning and giving a glare in return, was the time that he always became acutely aware of how wrong this entire situation felt. He didn't belong here, he knew that. And seeing Tim, Bruce, and Grayson in the same room always filled him with either unbearable guilt or red hot rage. Then there was the fact that he felt exposed, defenseless, vulnerable.

all of that, plus some other variables (like the fact that the golden boy was sudden his fan seriously threw him off) often drove him to hanging out with Tim. Being alone always let his mind wander, which was unacceptable, and the feels ebbed when he was alone with the other. Tim didn't have that prying I-know-you-don't-want-to-talk-about-it-but-I really-think-you-should air Alfred sometimes had, or give off the feeling like he as just waiting for Jason to to postal and have to be locked up in Arkham like Bruce, and he wasn't associated with everything Grayson was. Tim was just childishly hopeful, which was a lot easier to deal with than everything else.

as for the defenseless and vulnerable bit, Jason was pretty confident that he could take the genius if it came down to that which put the odds in his favor and Jason at ease, more or less.

so yeah, Tim was his favorite so far. Which was one of the things that felt inherently wrong but natural at the same time. The entire thing left him feeling even more confused than ever.

and more than anything else, Jason just wanted to wake up one day and realize that this was all a bad dream. He just wanted to be able to think without have barbed nails pounded into him head and then ripped out. He wanted to get rid of those freaking emotions that weren't his and screwed with his brain. He didn't want to feel like he was one step away from falling apart.

he just wanted things to make sense again.

when Jason caught himself thinking like that, he would violently shove it away. Add it to the growing list of things he couldn't think about. Really, he should just relax. He wasn't in enemy territory, he wasn't in danger. He was at home, he was with his family, he was safe.

but looking into the mirror at night, after the nightmares, Jason just wished, more than anything else, that he could believed that.

but he couldn't.

and that's what scared him the most.

**Hope you guys enjoyed that, I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. Which is why it took me so long, this just did not wanna write. **


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